Obsession
by Kate Purcell
Summary: The ending of the Night on the Sun from Debbie's perspective.  High rating for language


The cut of the scissors was swift. The sting was as annoying as a paper cut, it was endless and seemed to penetrate deep in her cheek, deeper than the actual cut. Debbie pulled herself up from the floor, wiping the blood pouring from the cut in her face with the back of her hand.

"Get out of my house, bitch!" The blonde haired slut screamed at her, hiding behind the barrel of the shotgun pointed directly at Debbie's chest. This bitch was digging a hole for herself. Killing her Cooter wasn't Stackhouse's first mistake, but it was the one that caused the obsession Debbie had of Sookie's blood soaking her hands. If it weren't for the shotgun between them, Debbie would jump the short distance between them and break both of her legs and give her the longest, most painful night of her life.

"Fuck you," Debbie growled, refusing to show Sookie how hurt she was. She wouldn't give her the satisfaction.

Sookie fired off the shotgun, hitting the wall next to Debbie, which she only flinched from. Sookie didn't have the guts to shoot her, Debbie knew. All that blonde skank could do is fuck Debbie's boyfriend and turn him against her. That was all she was good for, a good screw. But who ever said she was good? Debbie glared at the chunky bitch. There was no way she could pleasure Alcide as much as she did, he'd come back to her and they'd team up together to give this bitch a long, painful death.

"Next time, I won't miss," the human growled. Debbie smiled sadistically thinking of her and Alcide torturing Sookie all night long, then spending the night fucking, soaked in the bitch's blood. With that plan in her head, Debbie vaulted herself out Sookie's window gladly.

Once she reached the ground gracefully, she ripped her clothes off as fast as she could and shifted. The blood from her cut face now stained her white fur, but that didn't bother her. There was no sign of her pack mates that had come with her, but that didn't bother her. Her Cooter was dead and she had no one to hunt for vampire blood with, that bothered her. Her ex-boyfriend was stolen by a blonde human bitch, that fucking bothered her.

She ran through the woods as fast as she could, wanting to get to Shreveport as quick as possible incase the scissor wound didn't heal quick enough. Despite the ever present stinging coming from the side of her face, it was calming to run free in her wolf form. It gave her time to focus wholly on what she was going to do to the Sookie bitch. Picturing everything, the tools she'd use, the screams she'd hear coming from the bitch's mouth, it was enough to make her tail wag.

Debbie trotted down the driveway to the house she had shared with Coot during their short marriage. It was hard not to imagine all the good times she had with her mate the few times they actually spent long periods of time in the run down shack. At night the two were busy running through the woods with the rest of the Shreveport pack or hunting vampires. During the day they slept little, as they both had other things on their minds after large doses of V, and there was no telling when or where that urge would take them over. Mentally, she counted all the times her and Coot found themselves in the woods doing it doggy style, both in their wolf and human forms. While these memories were deliciously stimulating, they also pissed Debbie off more than she could ever imagine. That Sookie bitch was going to get what was coming to her for killing her mate.

She shifted into her human form and opened the door to the decrepit home. The house had always been bare due to lack of funds, which Coot would spend on booze or V if the two couldn't find a vamp in time, and Coot never found it necessary to dress up a house he barely spent time in. Debbie was sure he'd live in the woods if it weren't for the fact that you couldn't have a shower with hot water and a refrigerator in the middle of the bayou. Standing in the living room, Debbie ran her eyes over the stained and torn couch that had survived the 70s and years of abuse from Coot and his family. She and Coot had many memories on that couch. Still under the influence of V, watching late night television, most often cheesy porn flicks, and Coot's insatiable appetite for Debbie. It may have been a mostly physical relationship and one that was both started on and based off of their ability to work well together to get V, but Coot made Debbie feel special and needed. Which is more than she can say about her family.

She waded through the empty beer bottles and food containers to the bedroom. She pulled on her leopard print bath robe over her bare body and looked around at the scarcely used room. Taking a whiff of the air, she could smell Coot everywhere, the pile of dirty clothes in the corner, the even smaller pile of clean clothes in another and the bed where there was still an imprint on the pillow of where he slept last. Debbie laid herself on her side of the bed and turned to face where Coot would've been if the human was never born, which Debbie was sure she shouldn't have. She nuzzled her face in the sheets and delicately sniffed at Coot's pillow, not wanting to disturb the indent he left. She felt a tear run down her cheek and immediately wiped it off. Coot wouldn't have wanted her to cry over his murder. He'd want her to savagely rip those responsible to shreds.

She jumped out of the bed and stormed into the bathroom where she could examine her cut. The bleeding has slowed and part of it was starting to heal already, good thing she was a Were. She gripped the sink so tightly, she thought it would break.

"That Sookie Stackhouse is one dead son of a whore," she growled at her reflection. That vampire king promised Debbie that she could play with Sookie before they did whatever vamp business they had to do with her. Hopefully drain her ass dry. Maybe the king has captured Sookie and will still let Debbie have her fun, even if the probability of her killing Sookie would be lowered under the watch of vampires that wanted her alive, she still wanted her chance to make the bitch wish she were dead. Then deny her that luxury.

Debbie blotted the little blood that was coming from the cut and threw the tissue into the sink. She heard several footsteps coming from her porch into her living room. Debbie growled. Who the hell was marching themselves into her house uninvited? She'd tear the fucker apart. She stomped into her living room growling and baring her teeth the best she could against the pain in the side of her face.

What she saw standing in her house was none other than her sister, Sandra. "Sandra, what the hell are you doing in my house?" Her and Sandra were close, but this wasn't the right time for her to barge into her house.

"I came to see you, I thought you could use some company since Coot.." She trailed off not wanting to set Debbie off by finishing the sentence. Her eyes doubled in size once they saw her cheek. "What happened?" She demanded, crossing the space between them and taking a hold of Debbie's face to see the cut better.

"I was runnin' with scissors," Debbie growled, pulling Sandra's hand from her still tender face. "Mama know you're here?" Sandra shook her head still looking at the cut in Debbie's face. Debbie didn't want Sandra to know what happened because she would no doubt want to get involved and she didn't think her sister was ready for that kind of danger, despite being a Were herself. Debbie would teach her soon enough how to get what she wants in life, who knows, she might even join her pack.

"Mama and daddy don't want me to see you anymore," she said, reaching up again to touch Debbie's face, but pulling her hand back in time to see the angry look in her adopted sister's eyes. "They say you're a bad influence." Debbie rolled her eyes, they would say that.

"Then you run on home, I've got business to take care of."

"Some bitch do this to you? Want me to kill 'em?" Debbie couldn't help but feel a little proud of her sister.

"No, I'm handling it. You go on home before mama and daddy find out yer with me. I don't want them runnin' up in here yellin' at me." Sandra stared at Debbie for a while, clearly angry that her sister hadn't immediately asked her to go fight the bitch who cut her.

"Fine," she said finally, walking towards the door. "You call me if you need my help killing the bastard who did that to you." Debbie nodded and waved her off. She didn't want any help, and if she decided she might want some, it would from Alcide so they could resume their relationship. All she knew for sure was that she wanted Sookie Stackhouse's blood staining her hands by the end of the week. If not, she'd start calling in reinforcements to capture her. Debbie Pelt will not stop until the blonde bitch is dead.


End file.
